The Young Forester

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Dick did not speak, but looked at the lumberman with a dark gleam in hiseyes.

"There's one thing, Buell," said Stockton. "Jim Williams is wise. You've gotto look out for him."

Buell's ruddy face blanched. Then, without another word, he waved his handtoward the slope, and, wheeling his horse, galloped down the trail.

IX. TAKEN INTO THE MOUNTAINS

We climbed to another level bench where we branched off the trail. Theforest still kept its open, park-like character. Under the great pines theground was bare and brown with a thick covering of pine-needles, but in theglades were green grass and blue flowers.

Once across this level we encountered a steeper ascent than any I had yetclimbed. Here the character of the forest began to change. There were othertrees than pines, and particularly one kind, cone-shaped, symmetrical, andbright, which Dick called a silver spruce. I was glad it belonged to theconifers, or pine-tree family, because it was the most beautiful tree I hadever seen. We climbed ridges and threaded through aspen thickets in hollowstill near sunset. Then Stockton ordered a halt for camp.

It came none too soon for me, and I was so exhausted that I had to behelped off my mustang. Stockton arranged my blankets, fed me, and bathedthe bruise on my head, but I was too weary and sick to be grateful or tocare about anything except sleep. Even the fact that my hands wereuncomfortably bound did not keep me awake.

When some one called me next morning my eyes did not want to stay open. Ihad a lazy feeling and a dull ache in my bones, but the pain had gone frommy head. That made everything else seem all right.

Soon we were climbing again, and my interest in my surroundings grew as wewent up. For a while we brushed through thickets of scrub oak. The wholeslope of the mountain was ridged and hollowed, so that we were always goingdown and climbing up. The pines and spruces grew smaller, and were morerugged and gnarled.

"Hyar's the canyon!" sang out Bill, presently.

We came out on the edge of a deep hollow. It was half a mile wide. I lookeddown a long incline of sharp tree-tips. The roar of water rose from below,and in places a white rushing torrent showed. Above loomed the snow-cladpeak, glistening in the morning sun. How wonderfully far off and high itstill was!

To my regret it was shut off from my sight as we descended into the canyon.However, I soon forgot that. I saw a troop of coyotes, and many black andwhite squirrels. From time to time huge birds, almost as big as turkeys,crashed out of the thickets and whirred away. They flew swift as pheasants,and I asked Dick what they were.

"Blue grouse," he replied. "Look sharp now, Ken, there are deer ahead ofus. See the tracks?"

Looking down I saw little, sharp-pointed, oval tracks. Presently two foxescrossed an open patch not fifty yards from us, but I did not get a glimpseof the deer. Soon we reached the bottom of the canyon, and struck intoanother trail. The air was full of the low roar of tumbling water. Thismountain-torrent was about twenty feet wide, but its swiftness and foammade it impossible to tell its depth. The trail led up-stream, and turnedso constantly that half the time Bill, the leader, was not in sight. Oncethe sharp crack of his rifle halted the train. I heard crashings in thethicket. Dick yelled for me to look up the slope, and there I saw threegray deer with white tails raised. I heard a strange, whistling sound.

On going forward we found that Bill had killed a deer and was roping it onhis pack-horse. As we proceeded up the canyon it grew narrower, and soon weentered a veritable gorge. It was short, but the floor was exceedinglyrough, and made hard going for the horses. Suddenly I was amazed to see thegorge open out into a kind of amphitheatre several hundred feet across. Thewalls were steep, and one side shelved out, making a long, shallow cave, Inthe center of this amphitheatre was a deep hole from which the mountainstream boiled and bubbled.

"Hyar we are," said Bill, and swung out of his saddle. The other menfollowed suit, and helped Dick and me down. Stockton untied our hands,saying he reckoned we would be more comfortable that way. Indeed we were.My wrists were swollen and blistered. Stockton detailed the Mexican to keepguard over us.

"Ken, I've heard of this place," said Dick. "How's that for a spring?Twenty yards wide, and no telling how deep! This is snow-water straightfrom the peaks. We're not a thousand feet below the snow-line."

"I can tell that. Look at those Jwari pines," I replied, pointing up overthe wall. A rugged slope rose above our camp-site, and it was covered witha tangled mass of stunted pines. Many of them were twisted and misshapen;some were half dead and bleached white at the tops. "It's my first sight ofsuch trees," I went on, "but I've studied about them. Up here it's not lackof moisture that stunts and retards their growth. It's fighting theelements--cold, storm-winds, snowslides. I suppose not one in a thousandseedlings takes root and survives. But the forest fights hard to live."

"Well, Ken, we may as well sit back now and talk forestry till Buell skinsall he wants of Penetier," said Dick. "It's really a fine camping-spot.Plenty of deer up here and bear, too."

"Dick, couldn't we escape?" I whispered.

"We're not likely to have a chance. But I say, Ken, how did you happen toturn up? I thought you were going to hop on the first train for home."

"Dick, you had another think coming. I couldn't go home. I'll have a greattime yet--I'm having it now."

"Yes, that lump on your head looks like it," replied Dick, with a laugh."If Bud hadn't put you out we'd have come closer to licking this bunch.Ken, keep your eye on Greaser. He's treacherous. His arm's lame yet."

"We've had two run-ins already," I said. "The third time is the worst, theysay. I hope it won't come. . . . But, Dick, I'm as big--I'm bigger than heis."

"Hear the kid talk! I certainly ought to have put you on that train--"

"What train?" asked Stockton, sharply, from our rear. He took us in withsuspicious eyes.

"I was telling Ken I ought to have put him on a train for home," answeredDick.

Stockton let the remark pass without further comment; still, he appeared tobe doing some hard thinking. He put Dick at one end of the long cave, me atthe other. Our bedding was unpacked and placed at our disposal. We made ourbeds. After that I kept my eyes open and did not miss anything.

"Leslie, I'm going to treat you and Ward white," said Stockton. "You'llhave good grub. Herky-Jerky's the best cook this side of Holston, andyou'll be left untied in the daytime. But if either of you attempts to getaway it means a leg shot off. Do you get that?"

"All right, Stockton; that's pretty square of you, considering," repliedDick. "You're a decent sort of chap to be mixed up with a thief like Buell.I'm sorry."

Stockton turned away at this rather abruptly. Then Bill appeared on thewall above, and began to throw down firewood. Bud returned from the canyon,where he had driven the horses. Greaser sat on a stone puffing a cigarette.It was the first time I had taken a good look at him. He was smaller than Ihad fancied; his feet and hands and features resembled those of a woman,but his eyes were live coals of black fire. In the daylight I was not inthe least afraid of him.

Herky-Jerky was the most interesting one of our captors. He had a short,stocky figure, and was the most bow-legged man I ever saw. Never on earthcould he have stopped a pig in a lane. A stubby beard covered the lowerhalf of his brick-red face. The most striking thing about Herky-Jerky,however, was his perpetual grin. He looked very jolly, yet every time heopened his mouth it was to utter bad language. He cursed the fire, thepans, the coffee, the biscuits, all of which he handled most skillfully. Itwas disgusting, and yet aside from this I rather liked him.

It grew dark very quickly while we were eating, and the wind that dippeddown into the gorge was cold. I kept edging closer and closer to theblazing campfire. I had never tasted venison before, and rather disliked itat first. But I soon cultivated a liking for it.

That night Stockton tied me securely, but in a way which made it easy forme to turn. I slept soundly and awoke late. When I sat up Stockton stood byhis saddled horse, and was giving orders to the men. He spoke sharply. Hemade it clear that they were not to be lax in their vigilance. Then,without a word to Dick or me, he rode down the gorge and disappeared behinda corner of yellow wall.

Bill untied the rope that held Dick's arms, but left his feet bound. I wasfreed entirely, and it felt so good to have the use of all my limbs oncemore that I pranced round in a rather lively way. Either my antics annoyedHerky-Jerky or he thought it a good opportunity to show his skill with alasso, for he shot the loop over me so hard that it stung my back.

"I'm all there as a roper!" he said, pulling the lasso tight round mymiddle. The men all laughed as I tumbled over in the gravel.

"Better keep a half-hitch on the colt," remarked Bud.

So they left the lasso fast about my waist, and it trailed after me as Iwalked. Herky-Jerky put me to carrying Dick's breakfast from the campfireup into the cave. This I did with alacrity. Dick and I exchangedcommonplace remarks aloud, but we had several little whispers.

"Ken, we may get the drop on them or give them the slip yet," whisperedDick, in one of these interludes.

This put ideas into my head. There might be a chance for me to escape, ifnot for Dick. I made up my mind to try if a good chance offered, but I didnot want to go alone down that canyon without a gun. Stockton had taken myrevolver and hunting-knife, but I still had the little leather case whichHal and I had used so often back on the Susquehanna. Besides a pen-knifethis case contained salt and pepper, fishing hooks and lines, matches--ahost of little things that a boy who had never been lost might imagine hewould need in an emergency. While thinking and planning I sat on the edgeof the great hole where the spring was. Suddenly I saw a swirl in thewater, and then a splendid spotted fish. It broke water twice. It was twofeet long.

"Why not?" I demanded. I had not caught little trout in the Pennsylvaniahills for nothing. "They eat, don't they? That fish I saw was a whale, andhe broke water for a bug. Get me a pole and some bugs or worms!"

When I took out my little case and showed the fishing-line, Herky-Jerkysaid he would find me some bait.

While he was absent I studied that spring with new and awakened eyes. Itwas round and very deep, and the water bulged up in great greenish swirls.The outlet was a narrow little cleft through which the water flowed slowly,as though it did not want to take its freedom. The rush and roar came fromthe gorge below.

Herky-Jerky returned with a long, slender pole. It was as pliant as abuggy-whip, and once trimmed and rigged it was far from being a poortackle. Herky-Jerky watched me with extreme attention, all the timegrinning. Then he held out a handful of grubs.

"If you ketch a trout on thet I'll swaller the pole!" he exclaimed.

I stooped low and approached the spring, being careful to keep out ofsight.

"You forgot to spit on yer bait, kid," said Bill.

They all laughed in a way to rouse my ire. But despite it I flipped thebait into the water with the same old thrilling expectancy.

The bait dropped with a little spat. An arrowy shadow, black and gold,flashed up. Splash! The line hissed. Then I jerked hard. The pole bentdouble, wobbled, and swayed this way and that. The fish was a powerful one;his rushes were like those of a heavy bass. But never had a bass given mesuch a struggle. Every instant I made sure the tackle would be wrecked.Then, just at the breaking-point, the fish would turn. At last he began totire. I felt that he was rising to the surface, and I put on more strain.Soon I saw him; then he turned, flashing like a gold bar. I led my captiveto the outlet of the spring, where I reached down and got my fingers in hisgills. With that I lifted him. Dick whooped when I held up the fish; as forme, I was speechless. The trout was almost two feet long, broad and heavy,with shiny sides flecked with color.

Herky-Jerky celebrated my luck with a generous outburst of enthusiasm,whereupon his comrades reminded him of his offer to swallow my fishingpole.

I put on a fresh bait and instantly hooked another fish, a smaller one,which was not so bard to land. The spring hole was full of trout. They madethe water boil when I cast. Several large ones tore the hook loose; I hadnever dreamed of such fishing. Really it was a strange situation. Here Iwas a prisoner, with Greaser or Bud taking turns at holding the other endof the lasso. More than once they tethered me up short for no other reasonthan to torment me. Yet never in my life had I so enjoyed fishing.

By-and-by Bill and Herky-Jerky left the camp. I heard Herky tell Greaser tokeep his eye on the stew-pots, and it occurred to me that Greaser hadbetter keep his eye on Ken Ward. When I saw Bud lie down I remembered whatDick had whispered. I pretended to be absorbed in my fishing, but really Iwas watching Greaser. As usual, he was smoking, and appeared listless, buthe still held on to the lasso.

Suddenly I saw a big blue revolver lying on a stone and I could even catchthe glint of brass shells in the cylinder. It was not close to Bud nor sovery close to Greaser. If he should drop the lasso! A wild idea possessedme--held me in its grip. just then the stew-pot boiled over. There was asputter and a cloud of steam, Greaser lazily swore in Mexican; he got up tomove the stew-pot and dropped the lasso.

When he reached the fire I bounded up, jerking the lasso far behind me. Iran and grabbed the revolver. Greaser heard me and wheeled with a yell. Budsat up quickly. I pointed the revolver at him, then at Greaser, and keptmoving it from one side to the other.

I trembled so that the revolver wabbled in my hand. Trying to hold itsteadied, I squeezed it hard. Bang! It went off with a bellow like acannon. The bullet scattered the gravel near Greaser. His yellow faceturned a dirty white. He jumped straight up in his fright.

"Cut him loose!" I ordered.

Greaser ran toward Dick.

"Look out, Ken! Behind you! Quick!" yelled Dick.

I beard a crunching of gravel. Even as I wheeled I felt a tremendous pullon the lasso and I seemed to be sailing in the air. I got a blurred glimpseof Herky-Jerky leaning back on the taut lasso. Then I plunged down, slidover the rocks, and went souse into the spring.

X. ESCAPE

Down, down I plunged, and the shock of the icy water seemed to petrify me.I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but for thelasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up.

I felt the air and the light, and opened my eyes to see Herky-Jerky haulingaway on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as if ready to dodgebehind the bank.

"Whar's my gun?" he yelled.

I had dropped it in the spring. He let the lasso sag, and I had to swim.Then, seeing that my hands were empty, he began to swear and to drag meround and round in the pool. When he had pulled me across he ran to theother side and jerked me back. I was drawn through the water with a forcethat I feared would tear me apart. Greaser chattered like a hideous monkey,and ran to and fro in glee. Herky-Jerky soon had me sputtering, gasping,choking. When he finally pulled me out of the hole I was all but drowned.

"You bow-legged beggar!" shouted Dick, "I'll fix you for that."

"Whar's my gun?" yelled Herky, as I fell to the ground.

"I lost--it," I panted.

He began to rave. Then I half swooned, and when sight and hearing fullyreturned I was lying in the cave on my blankets. A great lassitude weightedme down. The terrible thrashing about in the icy water had quenched myspirit. For a while I was too played out to move, and lay there in my wetclothes. Finally I asked leave to take them off. Bud, who had come back inthe meantime, helped me, or I should never have got out of them. Herkybrought up my coat, which, fortunately, I had taken off before the ducking.I did not have the heart to speak to Dick or look at him, so I closed myeyes and fell asleep.

It was another day when I awoke. I felt all right except for a sorenessunder my arms and across my chest where the lasso had chafed and bruisedme. Still I did not recover my good spirits. Herky-Jerky kept on grinningand cracking jokes on my failure to escape. He had appropriated my revolverfor himself, and he asked me several times if I wanted to borrow it toshoot Greaser.

That day passed quietly, and so did the two that followed. The men wouldnot let me fish nor move about. They had been expecting Stockton, and as hedid not come it was decided to send Bud down to the mill; in fact, Buddecided the matter himself. He warned Greaser and Herky to keep close watchover Dick and me. Then he rode away. Dick and I resumed our talk aboutforestry, and as we were separated by the length of the cave it wasnecessary to speak loud. So our captors heard every word we said.

"Ken, what's the difference between Government forestry out here and, say,forestry practiced by a farmer back in Pennsylvania?" asked Dick.

"There's a big difference, I imagine. Forestry is established in some partsof the East; it's only an experiment out here."

Then I went on to tell him about the method of the farmer. He usually had asmall piece of forest, mostly hard wood. When the snow was on he cutfirewood, fence-rails, and lumber for his own use in building. Some seasonslumber brought high prices; then he would select matured logs and haul themto the sawmill. But he would not cut a great deal, and he would use care inthe selection. It was his aim to keep the land well covered with forest. Hewould sow as well as harvest.

"Now the Government policy is to preserve the National Forests for the useof the people. The soil must be kept productive. Agriculture would beimpossible without water, and the forests hold water. The West wants peopleto come to stay. The lumberman who slashes off the timber may get richhimself, but he ruins the land."

"What's that new law Congress is trying to pass?" queried Dick.

I was puzzled, but presently I caught his meaning. Bill and Herky-Jerkywere hanging on our words with unconcealed attention. Even the Mexican waslistening. Dick's cue was to scare them, or at least to have some fun attheir expense.

"They've passed it," I replied. "Fellows like Buell will go to thepenitentiary for life. His men'll get twenty years on bread and water. Nowhiskey! Serves 'em right."

"What'll the President do when he learns these men kidnapped you?"

"Do? He'll have the whole forest service out here and the National Guard.He's a friend of my father's. Why, these kidnappers will be hanged!"

"I wish the Guard would come quick. Too bad you couldn't have sent word!I'd enjoy seeing Greaser swing. Say, he hasn't a ghost of a chance, withthe President and Jim Williams after him."

"Dick, I want the rings in Greaser's ears."

"What for? They're only brass."

"Souvenirs. Maybe I'll have watch-charms made of them. Anyway, I can showthem to my friends back East."

"It'll be great--what you'll have to tell," went on Dick. "It'll be funny,too."

Greaser had begun to snarl viciously, and Herky and Bill looked glum andthoughtful. The arrival of Bud interrupted the conversation and put an endto our playful mood. We heard a little of what he told his comrades, andgathered that Jim Williams had met Stockton and had asked questions hard toanswer. Dick flashed me a significant look, which was as much as to saythat Jim was growing suspicious. Bud had brought a store of whiskey, andhis companions now kept closer company with him than ever before. But fromappearances they did not get all they wanted.

"We've got to move this here camp," said Bud.

Bud and Bill and Herky walked off down the gorge. Perhaps they really wentto find another place for the camp, for the present spot was certainly akind of trap. But from the looks of Greaser I guessed that they wereleaving him to keep guard while they went off to drink by themselves.Greaser muttered and snarled. As the moments passed his face grew sullen.

All at once he came toward me. He bound my hands and my feet. Dick wasalready securely tied, but Greaser put another lasso on him. Then heslouched down the gorge. His high-peaked Mexican sombrero bobbed above therocks, then disappeared.

"Ken, now's the chance," said Dick, low and quick. "If you can only workloose! There's your rifle and mine, too. We could hold this fort for amonth."

"What can I do?" I asked, straining on my ropes.

"You're not fast to the rock, as I am. Rollover here and untie me with yourteeth."

I raised my head to get the direction, and then, with a violent twist of mybody, I started toward him; but being bound fast I could not guide myself,and I rolled off the ledge. The bank there was pretty steep, and, unable tostop, I kept on like a barrel going down-bill. The thought of rolling intothe spring filled me with horror. Suddenly I bumped hard into somethingthat checked me. It was a log of firewood, and in one end stuck the bigknife which Herky-Jerky used to cut meat.

Instantly I conceived the idea of cutting my bonds with this knife. But howwas I to set about it?

What Dick called easy as pie was the hardest work I ever did. I lay flat onmy back, bound hand and foot, and it was necessary to jerk my body alongthe log till my hands should be under the knife. I lifted my legs and edgedalong inch by inch.

"Fine work, Ken! Now you're right! Turn on your side! Be careful you don'tloosen the knife!"

Not only were my wrists bound, but the lasso had been wrapped round myelbows, holding them close to my body. Turning on my side, I found that Icould not reach the knife--not by several inches. This was a bitterdisappointment. I strained and heaved. In my effort to lift my bodysidewise I pressed my face into the gravel. "Hurry, Ken, hurry!" criedDick. "Somebody's coming!"

Thus urged, I grew desperate. In my struggle I discovered that it waspossible to edge up on the log and stick there. I glued myself to that log.By dint of great exertion I brought the tight cord against the blade. Itparted with a little snap, my elbows dropped free. Raising my wrists, Isawed quickly through the bonds. I cut myself, the blood flowed, but thatwas no matter. jerking the knife from the log, I severed the ropes round myankles and leaped up.

"Hurry, boy!" cried Dick, with a sharp note of alarm.

I ran to where he lay, and attacked the heavy halter with which he had beensecured. I had cut half through the knots when a shrill cry arrested me. Itwas the Mexican's voice.

"Head him off! He's after your gun!" yelled Dick.

The sight of Greaser running toward the cave put me into a frenzy. Droppingthe knife, I darted to where my rifle leaned across my saddle. But I sawthe Mexican would beat me to it. Checking my speed, I grabbed up a roundstone and let fly. That was where my ball-playing stood me in good stead,for the stone hit Greaser on the shoulder, knocking him flat. But he gotup, and lunged for the rifle just as I reached him.

I kicked the rifle out of his band, grappled with him, and down we wenttogether. We wrestled and thrashed off the ledge, and when we landed in thegravel I was on top.

Either it was a mortal dread of Greaser's knife or some kind of a new-bornfury that lent me such strength. He screeched, he snapped like a wolf, heclawed me, he struck me, but he could not shake me off. Several times hehad me turning, but a hard rap on his head knocked him back again. Then Ibegan to bang him in the ribs.

"That's the place!" shouted Dick. "Ken, you're going to do him up! Soakhim! Oh-h, but this is great!"

I kept the advantage over Greaser, but still he punished me cruelly.Suddenly he got his snaky hands on my throat and began to choke me. Withall my might I swung my fist into his stomach.

His hands dropped, his mouth opened in a gasp, his face turned green. Theblow had made him horribly sick, and he sank back utterly helpless. Ijumped up with a shout of triumph.

"Run! Run for it!" yelled Dick, in piercing tones. "They're coming!Never mind me! Run, I tell you! Not down the gorge! Climb out!"

For a moment I could not move out of my tracks. Then I saw Bill and Herkyrunning up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering and lurching.

This lent me wings. In two jumps I had grabbed my rifle; then, turning, Iran round the pool, and started up the one place in the steep wall whereclimbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick's piercingcry:

"Go-go-go, Ken!"

I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ranalong a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The lastfew yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as Igained.

"Come back hyar!" bawled Bill.

Crack! Crack! Crack . . . The reports rang out in quick succession. Abullet whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower ofdust into my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to dig myfingers and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two morebullets sang past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to more thanscare me. I dragged myself over the edge and was safe.

The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, lay belowin plain sight. Once hidden there, I would be hard to find. Picking up myrifle, I ran swiftly along the base of the slope and soon gained the coverof the woods.

XI. THE OLD HUNTER

I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a dog-trot.The one thing to do was to get a long way ahead of my pursuers, for surelyat the outset they would stick like hounds to my trail.

A mile or more below the gorge I took to the stream and waded. It wasslippery, dangerous work, for the current tore about my legs and threatenedto upset me. After a little I crossed to the left bank. Here the slope ofthe canyon was thick with grass that hid my tracks. It was a long climb upto the level. Upon reaching it I dropped, exhausted.

It struck me that now I was free, I had only jumped out of the frying-paninto the fire. Hurriedly I examined my Winchester. The magazine containedten cartridges. What luck that Stockton had neglected to unload it! Thismade things look better. I had salt and pepper, a knife, and matches--thanks to the little leather case--and so I could live in the woods.

It was too late for regrets. I might have freed Dick somehow or even heldthe men at bay, but I had thought only of escape. The lack of nerve andjudgment stung me. Then I was bitter over losing my mustang and outfit.

But on thinking it all over, I concluded that I ought to be thankful forthings as they were. I was free, with a whole skin. That climb out of thegorge had been no small risk. How those bullets had whistled and hissed!

"I'm pretty lucky," I muttered. "Now to get good and clear of thisvicinity. They'll ride down the trail after me. Better go over this ridgeinto the next canyon and strike down that. I must go down. But how far?What must I strike for?"

I took a long look at the canyon. In places the stream showed, also thetrail; then there were open patches, but I saw no horses or men. With agrim certainty that I should be lost in a very little while, I turned intothe cool, dark forest.

Every stone and log, every bit of hard ground in my path, served to helphide my trail. Herky-Jerky very likely had the cowboy's skill at findingtracks, but I left few traces of my presence on that long slope. Only anIndian or a hound could have trailed me. The timber was small and roughbrush grew everywhere. Presently I saw light ahead, and I came to an openspace. It was a wide swath in the forest. At once I recognized the path ofan avalanche. It sloped up clean and bare to the gray cliffs far above.Below was a great mass of trees and rocks, all tangled in black splinteredruin. I pushed on across the path, into the forest, and up and down thehollows. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, and the shadows weregathering when I came to another large canyon. It looked so much like thefirst that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. But this one seemedwider, deeper, and there was no roar of rushing water.

It was time to think of making camp, and so I hurried down the slope. Atthe bottom I found a small brook winding among boulders and ledges of rock.The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon I discovered a placewhere I thought it would be safe to build a fire. My clothes were wet, andthe air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a store of wood, I made my firein a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scented pine boughs (I thought theymust be from a balsam-tree), and these I laid close up in a rocky corner.Thus I had the fire between me and the opening, and with plenty of wood toburn I did not fear visits from bears or lions. At last I lay down, dry andwarm indeed, but very tired and hungry.

Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackle ofmy fire, and then I fell asleep. Twice in the night I awakened cold, but byputting on more firewood I was soon comfortable again.

When I awoke the sun was shining brightly into my rocky bedchamber. Thefire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build upanother fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were myfirst tasks. The air was sweet; it seemed to freeze as I breathed, and wasa bracing tonic. I was tingling all over, and as hungry as a starved wolf.

I set forth on a hunt for game. Even if the sound of a shot betrayed mywhereabouts I should have to abide by it, for I had to eat. Stepping softlyalong, I glanced about me with sharp eyes. Deer trails were thick. Thebottom of this canyon was very wide, and grew wider as I proceeded. Thenthe pines once more became large and thrifty. I judged I had come down themountain, perhaps a couple of thousand feet below the camp in the gorge. Iflushed many of the big blue grouse, and I saw numerous coyotes, a fox, anda large brown beast which moved swiftly into a thicket. It was enough tomake my heart rise in my throat. To dream of hunting bears was somethingvastly different from meeting one in a lonely canyon.

Just after this I saw a herd of deer. They were a good way off. I began toslip from tree to tree, and drew closer. Presently I came to a littlehollow with a thick, short patch of underbrush growing on the oppositeside. Something crashed in the thicket. Then two beautiful deer ran out.One bounded leisurely up the slope; the other, with long ears erect,stopped to look at me. It was no more than fifty yards away. Trembling witheagerness, I leveled my rifle. I could not get the sight to stay steady onthe deer. Even then, with the rifle wobbling in my intense excitement, Ithought of how beautiful that wild creature was. Straining every nerve, Idrew the sight till it was in line with the gray shape, then fired. Thedeer leaped down the slope, staggered, and crumpled down in a heap.

I tore through the bushes, and had almost reached the bottom of the hollowwhen I remembered that a wounded deer was dangerous. So I halted. The grayform was as still as stone. I ventured closer. The deer was dead. My bullethad entered high above the shoulder at the juncture of the neck. Though Ihad only aimed at him generally, I took a good deal of pride in my firstshot at a deer.

Fortunately my pen-knife had a fair-sized blade. With it I decided to cutout part of the deer and carry it back to my camp. Then it occurred to methat I might as well camp where I was. There were several jumbles of rockand a cliff within a stone's-throw of where I stood. Besides, I must getused to making camp wherever I happened to be. Accordingly, I took hold ofthe deer, and dragged him down the hollow till I came to a leaning slab ofrock.

Skinning a deer was, of course, new to me. I haggled the flesh somewhat andcut through the skin often, my knife-blade being much too small for suchwork. Finally I thought it would be enough for me to cut out the haunches,and then I got down to one haunch. It had bothered me how I was going tosever the joint, but to my great surprise I found there did not seem to beany connection between the bones. The haunch came out easily, and I hung itup on a branch while making a fire.

Herky-Jerky's method of broiling a piece of venison at the end of a sticksolved the problem of cooking. Then it was that the little flat flask, fullof mixed salt and pepper, rewarded me for the long carrying of it. I washungry, and I feasted.

By this time the sun shone warm, and the canyon was delightful. I roamedaround, sat on sunny stones, and lay in the shade of pines. Deer browsed inthe glades. When they winded or saw me they would stand erect, shoot uptheir long cars, and then leisurely lope away. Coyotes trotted out ofthickets and watched me suspiciously. I could have shot several, but deemedit wise to be saving of my ammunition. Once I heard a low drumming. I couldnot imagine what made it. Then a big blue grouse strutted out of a patch ofbushes. He spread his wings and tail and neck feathers, after the fashionof a turkey-gobbler. It was a flap or shake of his wings that produced thedrumming. I wondered if he intended, by his actions, to frighten me awayfrom his mate's nest. So I went toward him, and got very close before heflew. I caught sight of his mate in the bushes, and, as I had supposed, shewas on a nest. Though wanting to see her eggs or young ones, I resisted thetemptation, for I was afraid if I went nearer she might abandon her nest,as some mother birds do.

It did not seem to me that I was lost, yet lost I was. The peaks were notin sight. The canyon widened down the slope, and I was pretty sure that itopened out flat into the great pine forest of Penetier. The only thing thatbothered me was the loss of my mustang and outfit; I could not reconcilemyself to that. So I wandered about with a strange, full sense of freedomsuch as I had never before known. What was to be the end of my adventure Icould not guess, and I wasted no time worrying over it.

The knowledge I had of forestry I tried to apply. I studied the north andsouth slopes of the canyon, observing how the trees prospered on the sunnyside. Certain saplings of a species unknown to me had been gnawed fully tenfeet from the ground. This puzzled me. Squirrels could not have done it,nor rabbits, nor birds. Presently I hit upon the solution. The bark andboughs of this particular sapling were food for deer, and to gnaw so highthe deer must have stood upon six or seven feet of snow.

I dug into the soft duff under the pines. This covering of the roots wasvery thick and deep. I made it out to be composed of pine-needles, leaves,and earth. It was like a sponge. No wonder such covering held the water! Ipried bark off dead trees and dug into decayed logs to find the insectenemies of the trees. The open places, where little colonies of pinesprouts grew, seemed generally to be down-slope from the parent trees. Itwas easy to tell the places where the wind had blown the seeds.

The hours sped by. The shadows of the pines lengthened, the sun set, andthe shade deepened in the hollows. Returning to my camp, I cooked my supperand made my bed. When I had laid up a store of firewood it was nearly dark.

With night came the coyotes. The carcass of the deer attracted them, andthey approached from all directions. At first it was fascinating to hearone howl far off in the forest, and then to notice the difference in thesound as he came nearer and nearer. The way they barked and snapped outthere in the darkness was as wild a thing to hear as any boy could havewished for. It began to be a little too much for me. I kept up a brightfire, and, though not exactly afraid, I had a perch picked out in thenearest tree. Suddenly the coyotes became silent. Then a low, continuousgrowling, a snapping of twigs, and the unmistakable drag of a heavy bodyover the ground made my hair stand on end. Gripping my rifle, I listened.I heard the crunch of teeth on bones, then more sounds of something beingdragged down the hollow. The coyotes began to bark again, but now far backin the forest.

Some beast had frightened them. What was it? I did not know whether a bearwould eat deer flesh,, but I thought not. Perhaps timber-wolves haddisturbed the coyotes. But would they run from wolves? It came to mesuddenly--a mountain-lion!

I hugged my fire, and sat there, listening with all my ears, imaginingevery rustle of leaf to be the step of a lion. It was long before thethrills and shivers stopped chasing over me, longer before I could decideto lie down. But after a while the dead quiet of the forest persuaded methat the night was far advanced, and I fell asleep.

The first thing in the morning I took my rifle and went out to where I hadleft the carcass of the deer. It was gone. It had been dragged away. A darkpath on the pine-needles and grass, and small bushes pressed to the ground,plainly marked the trail. But search as I might, I could not find the trackof the animal that had dragged off the deer. After following the trail fora few rods, I decided to return to camp and cook breakfast before going anyfarther. While I was at it I cut many thin slices of venison, and, afterroasting them, I stored them away in the capacious pocket of my coat.

My breakfast finished, I again set out to see what had become of theremains of the deer. In two or three places the sharp hoofs had cut linesin the soft earth, and there were tufts of whitish-gray hair elsewhere. Ahundred yards or more down the hollow I came to a bare spot where recentlythere had been a pool of water. Here I found cat tracks as large as my twohands. I had never seen the track of a mountain-lion, but, all the same, Iknew that this was the real thing. What an enormous brute he must havebeen! I cast fearful glances into the surrounding thickets.

It was not needful to travel much farther. Under a bush well hidden in aclump of trees lay what now remained of my deer. A patch of gray hair, afew long bones, a split skull, and two long ears--no more! Even the hide wasgone. Perhaps the coyotes had finished the job after the lion had gorgedhimself, but I did not think so. It seemed to me that coyotes would havescattered the remains. Those two long ears somehow seemed pathetic. Iwished for a second that the lion were in range of my rifle.

The lion was driven from my mind when I saw a troop of deer cross a gladebelow me. I had to fight myself to keep from shooting. The wind blew ratherstrong in my face, which probably accounted for the deer not winding me.

Then the whip-like crack of a rifle riveted me where I stood. One of thedeer fell, and the others bounded away. I saw a tall man stride down theslope and into the glade. He was not like any of the loggers or lumbermen.They were mostly brawny and round-shouldered. This man was lithe, erect; hewalked like athletes I had seen. Surely I should find a friend in him, andI lost no time in running down into the glade. He saw me as soon as I wasclear of the trees, and stood leaning on his rifle.

"Wal, dog-gone my buttons!" he ejaculated. "Who're you?"

I blurted out all about myself, at the same time taking stock of him. Hewas not young, but I had never seen a young man so splendid. Hair, beard,and skin were all of a dark gray. His eyes, too, were gray--the keenest andclearest I had ever looked into. They shone with a kindly light, otherwiseI might have thought his face hard and stern. His shoulders were very wide,his arms long, his hands enormous. His buckskin shirt attracted myattention to his other clothes, which looked like leather overalls or heavycanvas. A belt carried a huge knife and a number of shells of largecaliber; the Winchester he had was exceedingly long and heavy, and of anold pattern. The look of him brought back my old fancy of Wetzel or KitCarson.

"So I'm lost," I concluded, "and don't know what to do. I daren't try tofind the sawmill. I won't go back to Holston just yet."

With that he drew his knife and set to work on the deer. It was wonderfulto see his skill. In a few cuts and strokes, a ripping of the hide and apowerful slash, he had cut out a haunch. It took even less work for thesecond. Then he hung the rest of the deer on a snag, and wiped his knifeand hands on the grass.

"Come on, youngster," he said, starting up the canyon.

I showed him where the carcass of my deer had been devoured.

"Cougar. Thar's a big feller has the run of this canyon."

"Cougar? I thought it was a mountain-lion."

"Cougar, painter, panther, lion--all the same critter. An' if you leave himalone he'll not bother you, but he's bad in a corner."

"He scared away the coyotes."

"Youngster, even a silver-tip--thet's a grizzly bear--will make tracks awayfrom a cougar. I lent my pack of hounds to a pard over near Springer. If Ihad them we'd put thet cougar up a tree in no time."

"Are there many lions--cougars here?"

"Only a few. Thet's why there's plenty of deer. Other game is plentiful,too. Foxes, wolves, an', up in the mountains, bears are thick."

"Then I may get to see one--get a shot at one?"

"Wal, I reckon."

From that time I trod on air. I found myself wishing for my brother Hal. Ibecame reconciled to the loss of mustang and outfit. For a moment I almostforgot Dick and Buell. Forestry seemed less important than hunting. I hadread a thousand books about old hunters and trappers, and here I was in awild mountain canyon with a hunter who might have stepped out of one of mydreams. So I trudged along beside him, asking a question now and then, andlistening always. He certainly knew what would interest me. There wasscarcely a thing he said that I would ever forget. After a while, however,the trail became so steep and rough that I, at least, had no breath tospare for talking. We climbed and climbed. The canyon had become a narrow,rocky cleft. Huge stones blocked the way. A ragged growth of underbrushfringed the stream. Dead pines, with branches like spears, lay along thetrail.

We came upon a little clearing, where there was a rude log-cabin with astone chimney. Skins of animals were tacked upon logs. Under the bank was aspring. The mountain overshadowed this wild nook.

I was all eyes as we entered the cabin. Skins, large and small, and of manycolors, hung upon the walls. A fire burned in a wide stone grate. A roughtable and some pans and cooking utensils showed evidence of recentscouring. A bunch of steel traps lay in a corner. Upon a shelf were tincans and cloth bags, and against the wall stood a bed of glossy bearskins.To me the cabin was altogether a most satisfactory place.

"I reckon ye're tired?" asked the hunter. "Thet's some pumpkins of a climbunless you're used to it."

I admitted I was pretty tired.

"Wal, rest awhile. You look like you hadn't slept much."

He asked me about my people and home, and was so interested in forestrythat he left off his task of the moment to talk about it. I was not long indiscovering that what he did not know about trees and forests was hardlyworth learning. He called it plain woodcraft. He had never heard offorestry. All the same I hungered for his knowledge. How lucky for me tofall in with him! The things that had puzzled me about the pines heanswered easily. Then he volunteered information. From talking of theforest, he drifted to the lumbermen.

"Wal, the lumber-sharks are rippin' holes in Penetier. I reckon theywouldn't stop at nothin'. I've heered some tough stories about thet sawmillgang. I ain't acquainted with Leslie, or any of them fellers you namedexcept Jim Williams. I knowed Jim. He was in Springer fer a while. If Jim'syour friend, there'll be somethin' happenin, when he rounds up themkidnappers. I reckon you'd better hang up with me fer a while. You don'twant to get ketched again. Your life wasn't much to them fellers. I thinkthey'd held on to you fer money. It's too bad you didn't send word home toyour people."

"I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I gotkidnapped. By this time the Government knows."

"Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will theGovernment round up these sharks?"

"Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting theNational Forests."

"So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timbertracts. Wal, old Penetier's going to see somethin' lively before long.Youngster, them lumbermen--leastways, them fellers you call Bud an' Bill,an' such--they're goin' to fight."

The old hunter left me presently, and went outside. I waited awhile forhim, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and dropped tosleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on my armand heard a voice.

"Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' with oneof my traps."

In a flash I was wide awake.

"Let's see your gun. Humph! pretty small--38 caliber, ain't it? Wal, it'lldo the work if you hold straight. Can you shoot?"

"Fairly well."

He took his heavy Winchester, and threw a coil of thin rope over hisshoulder.

"Come on. Stay close to me, an' keep your eyes peeled."

XII. BEARS

The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him. Thetrail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, and I wasconstantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grew fewer, andfinally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weathered rocks. A fringeof pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there a blasted spearstanding out white.

"I had my trap set up thet draw," said Hiram Bent, as he pointed toward anintersecting canyon. "Just before I waked you I was comin' along here, an'I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soon three blackbears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' the trap with thechain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't be far."

"Are they grizzlies?" I asked, trying to speak naturally.

"Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper.He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd beenplowin' up the stones."

There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stonesoverturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel even andsmooth.

The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered bow he could go so fastwithout running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiramstarted up the right-hand fork, then suddenly stopped, and, turning, beganto go back, carefully examining the ground.

"They've split on us," he explained. "The ole feller with the trap went upthe right-hand draw, an' the mother an' cub took to the left. Now,youngster, can you keep your nerve?"

"I think so."

"Wal, you go after the ole feller. You can't miss him, an' he won't be far.You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though he might laylow, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Kill him, an' thenrun back an' take up this draw. The she bear is cute an' may give me theslip, but if she doesn't climb out soon I'll head her off. Hurry on, now.Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if you were to home."

With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where the canyondivided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyon twistedand turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of water gleamed overits colored bed of gravel. The walls were straight up, and, in places,bulged outward. I flinched at every turn in the canyon; but, with riflecocked and thrust forward, I went on. The cracks in the walls, the bouldersand pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and the occasional thickets--all made me halt with careful step and finger on the trigger. I followedthe splashes on the stones, which told me that the bear had passed thatway. As I went cautiously on I felt a tightening at my throat. The lightabove grew dimmer. When I stopped to listen it was so silent that I heardonly the pounding of my heart and my own quick breathing. I pressed on andon, going faster all the time not that I felt braver, but I longed to endthe suspense. Suddenly the silence was broken by a threatening roar. Itswept down on me, swelling as it continued, and it seemed to fill thecanyon. It shook my pulses, it urged me to flight, but I could not move.Then as suddenly it ceased.

For a long moment I stood still, with no idea of advancing farther. Theclinking of a chain seemed to release my cramped muscles. Very cautiously Ipeered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a huge black bear onhis haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutched one of his paws.It was such a strange sight that my fear was forgotten. There was somethingalmost human in the way the bear looked at that trap. He touched itgingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept up close to the corner ofstone and looked around again. The bear was now close to me. I saw theheavy chain and the log to which it was attached. He looked at trap and login a grave, pathetic way, as if trying to reason about them. Then he rousedinto furious action, swinging the trap, dragging the log, and bellowing insuch a frightful manner that I dodged back behind the wall.

But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note ofpain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I lookedagain, the bear was a sight not to be forgotten. He showed a helpless,terrible fear of the steel-jawed thing on his foot. He dropped down on thesand with a groan, and there was a despairing look in his eyes.

This made me forget my fear, and I had only one thought--to put him out ofhis misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rock beside me.Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dull report re-echoedfrom wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and his head fell upon hisoutstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot again upon the slightestmovement, but there was none.

With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close heseemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked at theglossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head where mybullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap biting to thebone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me all pride ofachievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trapped crippled bearthat could not run or fight. Then and there I gained a dislike for trappinganimals.

The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurryback up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone to stone,dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down that canyonperhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had gone up.

But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon hadbeen easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and full ofdead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clambered upwardover the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round the boulders.Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it came from, but Ireplied. A second call I identified as coming from high up the raggedcanyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly no bears orhunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, and torn, I fellout of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Above me rose theswelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines.

"This way, youngster!" called the old hunter from my left.

A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to a fairlyopen space with not much slope. Hiram Bent stood under a pine, and at hisfeet lay a black furry mass.

"This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did it getaway?"

"Not yet. Lookup in the tree."

I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, andsaw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against the sky.He was most anxiously gazing down at us.

"Wal, tumble him out of thar," said Hiram Bent.

With a natural impulse to shoot I raised my rifle, but the cub looked soattractive and so helpless that I hesitated.

"I don't like to do it," I said. "Oh, I wish we could catch him alive!"

"Wal, I reckon we can."

"How?" I inquired, eagerly, and lowered my rifle.

"Are you good on the climb?"

"Climb? This tree? Why, with one hand. Back in Pennsylvania I climbedshell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from the ground. . . But there weren't any bears up them."

"You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassy littlechap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him."

"Climb round him?" I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. "You mean toslip out on the branches and go up hand-over-hand till I get above him. Thebranches up there seem pretty close--I might. But suppose he goes higher?"

"I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him to it--mebbe."

"Any danger of his attacking me--up there?"

"Wal, not much. If he hugs the trunk he'll have to hold on fer all he'sworth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he might batyou one. Mebbe I'd better go up."

"Oh, I'm going--I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I getabove him, what then?"

"Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he gets sofar I'll tell you what to do." I put my arm through the coil of rope, and,slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. It was thework of only a moment to reach the first branch.

"Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet," said HiramBent. "Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet's goin'to worry us."

It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork. The cubhad gone up the right-hand trunk some fifteen feet, and was now hugging it.At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I saw he would haveall he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the left trunk and getabove him there would be little to fear. How I did it so quickly was amystery, but amid the cracking of dead branches and pattering of fallingbark and swaying of the tree-top I gained a position above him.

He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snapped fireand fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and a growl.

With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing inthe glade waving his arms.

"I'm all right!" I yelled down. "Now, how'll I drive him?"

"Break off a branch an' switch him."

There was not a branch above me that I could break, but a few feet belowwas a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on with myleft arm and legs, I began to thrash the cub. He growled fiercely. snappedat the stick, and began to back down.

"He's started!" I cried, in glee. "Go on, Cubby--down with you!"

Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close to him.I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding down the next.But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier for me. The branchesrather hindered his backward progress while they aided mine. Growling andwhining, with long claws ripping the bark, he went down. All of a sudden Ibecame aware of the old hunter threshing about under the tree.

"Hold on--not so fast!" he yelled.

Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the firstbranch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated. Buthe looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hiram pounded thetree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reach the ground, forthe noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a little way to a windfall,and came back with the upper half of a dead sapling. With this he began toprod the bear. Thereupon, Cubby lost no time in getting up to the firstbranch again, where he halted.

"Throw the noose on him now--anywhere," ordered the hunter. "An' we've notime to lose. He's gittin' sassier every minnit."

I dropped the wide loop upon Cubby, expecting to catch him first time. Therope went over his bead, but with a dexterous flip of his paw he sent itflying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continually got thebetter of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby from below.

"You ain't quick enough," said Hiram, impatiently.

Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly over thebear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped out of thenoose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught over his earsand in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me from my perch. Icould tell he was growing angrier every instant, and also braver. Suddenlythe noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. He wagged his head and Ipulled. The noose tightened.

"I've got him!" I yelled, and gave the rope a strong pull.

The bear stood up with startling suddenness and reached for me.

"Climb!" shouted Hiram,

I dropped the rope and leaped for the branch above, and, catching it,lifted myself just as the sharp claws of the cub scratched hard over myboot.

Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to the ground.Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in his teeth beganto limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet under me, workingsteadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like points of green fire.

"Stop him! Stand on his head!" mumbled Hiram, with the rope in his teeth.

"What!--not on your life!"

But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lower one,I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed, and beganto kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the noose over a bindfoot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threw the rope over thelowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph. The next instant,before I could find a foothold, the branch to which I was hanging snappedlike a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash. I struck the bear andthe lower branch, and then the ground. The fall half stunned me. I thoughtevery bone in my body was broken. I rose unsteadily, and for a momenteverything whirled before my eyes. Then I discovered that the roar in myears was the old hunter's yell. I saw him hauling on the rope. There was agreat ripping of bark and many strange sounds, and then the cub wasdangling head downward. Hiram had pulled him from his perch, and hung himover the lowest branch.

"Thar, youngster, git busy now!" yelled the hunter. "Grab the other rope--thar it is--an' rope a front paw while I hold him. Lively now, he's mightyheavy, an' if he ever gits down with only one rope on him we'll think we'refast to chain lightnin'."

The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with thenoose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he droppedfull-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the wind ofhis paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung the nooseand caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me all the moreheedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. The bear gave mea slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went down like a tenpin.

"Git a hitch thar--to the saplin'!" roared Hiram, as I staggered to myfeet. "Rustle now--hurry!"

What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaring at me,I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, and when thecub dropped to the ground the rope flew up over the branch. Cubby leaped soquickly that he jerked the rope away before Hiram could pick it up, and onehard pull loosened my hitch on the sapling.

The cub bounded through the glade, dragging me with him. For a few longleaps I kept my feet, then down I sprawled.

"Hang on! Hang on!" Hiram yelled from behind.

If I had not been angry clear through at that cub I might have let go. Heploughed my face in the dirt, and almost jerked my arms off. Suddenly thestrain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold of the otherrope.

"Now, stretch him out!" he yelled.

Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do was struggleand paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his rope to a tree, andthen ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took my rope and fastenedit to a stout bush.

He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. We wentup to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerful hands,brought the hind legs together.

"Tie 'em," he said.

This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub's headdown and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tied the frontlegs.

"Thar! Now you loosen the ropes an' wind them up."

When I had done this he lifted the cub and swung him over his broad back.

"Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn't workthet knot off his jaws. . . . Say, youngster, now you've got him, what inthunder will you do with him?"

I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burning hands,and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: "I'll hang to himas long as I can."

XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST

Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a sackof oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar roundCubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he tied oneend to the chain and the other to a sturdy branch of a tree. This done, heslipped the thongs off the bear.

"Thar! He'll let you pet him in a few days mebbe," he said.

Our captive did not yet show any signs of becoming tame. No sooner was hefree of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled up by thehalter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, and squirmingto get his head out of the collar.

"He might choke hisself," said Hiram, "but mebbe he'll ease up if we stayaway from him. Now we've got to rustle to skin them two bears."

So, after giving me a hunting-knife, and telling me to fetch my rifle, heset off up the canyon. As I trudged along behind him I spoke of DickLeslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of the clutchesof the lumber thieves.

"I've been thinkin' about thet," replied the hunter, "an' I reckon we can.Tomorrow we'll cross the ridge high up back of thet spring-hole canyon, an'sneak down. 'Pears to me them fellers will be trailin' you pretty hard, an'mebbe they'll leave only one to guard Leslie. More'n thet, the trail uphere to my shack is known, an' I'm thinkin' we'd be smart to go off an'camp somewhere else."

"That'd be still better," I replied. "But if we don't, I'll try to take himback home."

The old hunter said I made a good shot at the big bear, and that he wouldgive me the skin for a rug. It delighted me to think of that huge glossybearskin on the floor of my den. I told Hiram how the bear had suffered,and I was glad to see that, although he was a hunter and trapper, hedisliked to catch a bear in a trap. We skinned the animal, and cut out aquantity of meat. He told me that bear meat would make me forget all aboutvenison. By the time we had climbed up the other canyon and skinned theother bear and returned to camp it was dark. As for me, I was so tired Icould hardly crawl.

In spite of my aches and pains, that was a night for me to remember. Butthere was the thought of Dick Leslie. His rescue was the only thing neededto make me happy. Dick was in my mind even when Hiram cooked a supper thatalmost made me forget my manners. Certainly the broiled bear meat made meforget venison. Then we talked before the burning logs in the stone fire-place. Hiram sat on his home-made chair and smoked a strong-smelling pipewhile I lay on a bearskin in blissful ease. Occasionally we heard the cuboutside rattling his chain and growling. All of the trappers and Indianfighters I had read of were different from Hiram Bent and Jim Williams.Jim's soft drawl and kind, twinkling eyes were not what any book-readerwould expect to find in a dangerous man. And Hiram Bent was so simple andfriendly, so glad to have even a boy to talk to, that it seemed he wouldnever stop. If it had not been for his striking appearance and for thestrange, wild tales he told of his lonely life, he would have reminded meof the old canal-lock tenders at home.

Once, when he was refilling his pipe and I thought it would be a good timeto profit from his knowledge of the forests, I said to him:

"Now, Mr. Bent, let's suppose I'm the President of the United States, and Ihave just appointed you to the office of Chief Forester of the NationalForests. You have full power. The object is to conserve our nationalresources. What will you do?"

"Wal, Mr. President," he began, slowly and seriously, and with greatdignity, "the Government must own the forests an' deal wisely with them.These mountain forests are great sponges to hold the water, an' we muststop fire an' reckless cuttin'. The first thing is to overcome theopposition of the stockmen, an' show them where the benefit will be theirsin the long run. Next the timber must be used, but not all used up. We'llneed rangers who're used to rustlin' in the West an' know Western ways.Cabins must be built, trails made, roads cut. We'll need a head foresterfor every forest. This man must know all that's on his preserve, an' haveit mapped. He must teach his rangers what he knows about trees. Penetierwill be given over entirely to the growin' of yellow pine. Thet thrivesbest, an' the parasites must go. All dead an' old timber must be cut, an'much of thet where the trees are crowded. The north slopes must be cutenough to let in the sun an' light. Brush, windfalls rottin' logs must beburned. Thickets of young pine must be thinned. Care oughten be taken notto cut on the north an' west edges of the forests, as the old guard pineswill break the wind."

"How will you treat miners and prospectors?"

"They must be as free to take up claims as if there wasn't no NationalForest."

"How about the settler, the man seeking a home out West?" I went on.

"We'll encourage him. The more men there are, the better the forester canfight fire. But those home-seekers must want a home, an' not be squattin'for a little, jest to sell out to lumber sharks."

"What's to become of timber and wood?"

"Wal, it's there to be used, an' must be used. We'll give it free to thesettler an' prospector. We'll sell it cheap to the lumbermen--big an'little. We'll consider the wants of the local men first."

"Now about the range. Will you keep out the stockmen?"

"Nary. Grazin' for sheep, cattle, an' hosses will go on jest the same. Butwe must look out for overgrazin'. For instance, too many cattle will stampdown young growth, an' too many sheep leave no grazin' for other stock. Thebead forester must know his business, an' not let his range be overstocked.The small local herders an' sheepmen must be considered first, the bigstockmen second. Both must be charged a small fee per head for grazin'."

"How will you fight fire?"

"Wal, thet's the hard nut to crack. Fire is the forest's worst enemy. In adry season like this Penetier would burn like tinder blown by a bellows.Fire would race through here faster 'n a man could run. I'll need specialfire rangers, an' all other rangers must be trained to fight fire, an' thenany men living in or near the forest will be paid to help. The thing to dois watch for the small fires an' put them out. Campers must be made to putout their fires before leaving camp. Brush piles an' slashes mustn't beburned in dry or windy weather."

Just where we left off talking I could not remember, for I dropped off tosleep. I seemed hardly to have closed my eyes when the hunter called me inthe morning. The breakfast was smoking on the red-hot coals, and outsidethe cabin all was dense gray fog.

When, soon after, we started down the canyon, the fog was lifting and theforest growing lighter. Everything was as white with frost as if it hadsnowed. A thin, brittle frost crackled under our feet. When we, had gottenbelow the rocky confines of the canyon we climbed the slope to the levelridge. Here it was impossible not to believe it had snowed. The forest wasas still as night, and looked very strange with the white aisles lined byblack tree trunks and the gray fog shrouding the tree-tops. Soon we wereclimbing again, and I saw that Hiram meant to head the canyon where I hadleft Dick.

The fog split and blew away, and the brilliant sunlight changed the forest.The frost began to melt, and the air was full of mist. We climbed andclimbed--out of the stately yellow-pine zone, up among the gnarled andblasted spruces, over and around strips of weathered stone. Once I saw acold, white snow-peak. It was hard enough for me to carry my rifle and keepup with the hunter without talking. Besides, Hiram had answered me rathershortly, and I thought it best to keep silent. From time to time he stoppedto listen. Then when he turned to go down the slope be trod carefully, andcautioned me not to loosen stones, and he went slower and yet slower. Fromthis I made sure we were not far from the springhole.

"Thar's the canyon," he whispered, stopping to point below, where a black,irregular line marked the gorge. "I haven't heerd a thing, an' we're close.Mebbe they're asleep. Mebbe most of them are trallin' you, an' I hope so.Now, don't you put your hand or foot on anythin' thet'll make a noise."

Then he slipped off, and it was wonderful to see how noiselessly hestepped, and how he moved between trees and dead branches without a sound.I managed pretty well, yet more than once a rattling stone or a brokenbranch stopped Hiram short and made him lift a warning hand.

At last we got down to the narrow bench which separated the canyon-slopefrom the deep cut. It was level and roughly strewn with boulders. Here wetook to all fours and crawled. It was easy to move here without noise, forthe ground was rocky and hard, and there was no brush.

Suddenly I fairly bumped into the hunter. Looking up, I saw that he hadhalted only a few feet from the edge of the gorge where I had climbed outin my escape. He was listening. There was not a sound save the dull roar ofrushing water.

Hiram slid forward a little, and rose cautiously to look over. I did thesame. When I saw the cave and the spring-hole I felt a catch in my throat.

But there was not a man in sight. Dick's captors had broken camp; they weregone. The only thing left in the gorge to show they had ever been there wasa burned-out campfire.

"They're gone," I whispered.

"Wal, it 'pears so," replied Hiram. "An' it's a move I don't like.Youngster, it's you they want. Leslie's no particular use to them. They'llhave to let him go sooner or later, if they hain't already."

"What'll we do now?"

"Make tracks. We'll cut back acrost the ridge an' git some blankets an'grub, then light out for the other side of Penetier."

I thought the old hunter had made rapid time on our way up, but now I sawwhat he really meant by "making tracks." Fortunately, after a short,killing climb, the return was all down-hill. One stride of Hiram's equalledtwo of mine, and he made his faster, so that I had to trot now and then tocatch up. Very soon I was as hot as fire, and every step was an effort. ButI kept thinking of Dick, of my mustang and outfit, and I vowed I wouldstick to Hiram Bent's trail till I dropped. For the matter of that I diddrop more than once before we reached the cabin.

A short rest while Hiram was packing a few things put me right again. Istrapped my rifle over my shoulder, and then went out to untie my bear cub.It would have cost me a great deal to leave him behind. I knew I ought to,still I could not bring myself to it. All my life I had wanted a bear cub.Here was one that I had helped to lasso and tie up with my own hands. Imade up my mind to hold to the cub until the last gasp.

So I walked up to Cubby with a manner more bold than sincere. He had noteaten anything, but he had drunk the water we had left for him. To mysurprise he made no fuss when I untied the rope; on the other hand, heseemed to look pleased, and I thought I detected a cunning gleam in hislittle eyes. He paddled away down the canyon, and, as this was in thedirection we wanted to go, I gave him slack rope and followed.

"Wal, you're goin' to have a right pert time, youngster, an' don't youforget it," said Hiram Bent.

The truth of that was very soon in evidence. Cubby would not let wellenough alone, and he would not have a slack rope. I think he wanted tochoke himself or pull my arms out. When I realized that Cubby was threetimes as strong as I was I began to see that my work was cut out for me.The more, however, that he jerked me and hauled me along, the more Idetermined to hang on. I thought I had a genuine love for him up to thetime he had almost knocked my head off, but it was funny how easily heroused my anger after that. What would have happened had he taken a notionto go through the brush? Luckily he kept to the trail, which certainly wasrough enough. So, with watching the cub and keeping my feet free of rootsand rocks, I had no chance to look ahead. Still I had no concern aboutthis, for the old hunter was at my heels, and I knew he would keep a sharplookout.

Before I was aware of it we had gotten out of the narrow canyon into avalley with well-timbered bottom, and open, slow rising slopes. We weregetting down into Penetier. Cubby swerved from the trail and started up theleft slope. I did not want to go, but I had to keep with him, and that wasthe only way. The hunter strode behind without speaking, and so I gatheredthat the direction suited him. By leaning back on the rope I walked up theslope as easily as if it were a moving stairway. Cubby pulled me up; I hadonly to move my feet. When we reached a level once more I discovered thatthe cub was growing stronger and wanted to go faster. We zigzagged acrossthe ridge to the next canyon, which at a glance I saw was deep and steep.

"Thet'll be some work goin' down that!" called Hiram. "Let me pack yourgun."

I would have been glad to give it to him, but how was I to manage? I couldnot let go of the rope, and Hiram, laden as he was, could not catch up withme. Then suddenly it was too late, for Cubby lunged forward and down.

This first downward jump was not vicious--only a playful one perhaps, byway of initiating me; but it upset me, and I was dragged in thepine-needles. I did not leap to my feet; I was jerked up. Then began a wildchase down that steep, bushy slope. Cubby got going, and I could no morehave checked him than I could a steam-engine. Very soon I saw that not onlywas the bear cub running away, but he was running away with me. I slid downyellow places where the earth was exposed, I tore through thickets, Idodged a thousand trees. In some grassy descents it was as if I hadseven-league boots. I must have broken all records for jumps. All at once Istumbled just as Cubby made a spurt and flew forward, alighting facedownward. I dug up the pine--needles with my outstretched hands, I scrapedwith my face and ploughed with my nose, I ate the dust; and when I broughtup with a jolt against a log a more furious boy than Ken Ward it would bebard to imagine. Leaping up, I strove with every ounce of might to hold inthe bear. But though fury lent me new strength, he kept the advantage.

Presently I saw the bottom of the canyon, an open glade, and an oldlog-cabin. I looked back to see if the hunter was coming. He was not insight, but I fancied I heard him. Then Cubby, putting on extra steam, tookthe remaining rods of the slope in another spurt. I had to race, then fly,and at last lost my footing and plunged down into a thicket.

There farther progress stopped for both of us. Cubby had gone down on oneside of a sapling and I on the other, with the result that we were broughtup short. I crashed through some low bushes and bumped squarely into thecub. Whether it was his frantic effort to escape, or just excitement, ordeliberate intention to beat me into a jelly I had no means to tell. Thefact was he began to dig at me and paw me and maul me. Never had I been soangry. I began to fight back, to punch and kick him.

Suddenly, with a crashing in the bushes, the cub was hauled away from me,and then I saw Hiram at the rope.

"Wal, wal!" he ejaculated, "your own mother wouldn't own you now!" Then helaughed heartily and chuckled to himself, and gave the cub a couple ofjerks that took the mischief out of him. I dragged myself after Hiram intothe glade. The cabin was large and very old, and part of the roof wassunken in.

"We'll hang up here an' camp," said Hiram. "This is an old hunters' cabin,an' kinder out of the way. We'll hitch this little fighter inside, wheremebbe he won't be so noisy."

The hunter hauled the cub up short, and half pulled, half lifted him intothe door. I took off my rifle, emptied my pockets of brush and beat out thedust, and combed the pine-needles from my hair. My hands were puffed andred, and smarted severely. And altogether I was in no amiable frame of mindas regarded my captive bear cub.

When I stepped inside the cabin it was dark, and coming from the brightlight I could not for a moment see what the interior looked like. PresentlyI made out one large room with no opening except the door. There was atumble-down stone fireplace at one end, and at the other a rude ladder ledup to a loft. Hiram had thrown his pack aside, and had tied Cubby to a pegin the log wall.

"Wal, I'll fetch in some fresh venison," said the hunter. "You rest awhile,an' then gather some wood an' make a fire."

The rest I certainly needed, for I was so tired I could scarcely untie thepack to get out the blankets. The bear cub showed signs or weariness, whichpleased me. It was not long after Hiram's departure that I sank into adoze.

When my eyes opened I knew I had been awakened by something, but I couldnot tell what. I listened. Cubby was as quiet as a mouse, and his veryquiet and the alert way he held his ears gave me a vague alarm. He hadheard something. I thought of the old hunter's return, yet this did notreassure me.

All at once the voices of men made me sit up with a violent start. Whocould they be? Had Hiram met a ranger? I began to shake a little, and wasabout to creep to the door when I heard the clink of stirrups and soft thudof hoofs. Then followed more voices, and last a loud volley of curses.

"Herky-Jerky!" I gasped, and looked about wildly.

I had no time to dash out of the door. I was caught in a trap, and I feltcold and sick. Suddenly I caught sight of the ladder leading to the loft.Like a monkey I ran up, and crawled as noiselessly as possible upon therickety flooring of dry pine branches. Then I lay there quivering.

XIV. A PRISONER

It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of light througha little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part of the interiorof the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside were plainly visible. Thethud of horses had given place to snorts, and then came a flopping ofsaddles and packs on the ground. "Any water hyar?" asked a gruff voice Irecognized as Bill's. "Spring right thar," replied a voice I knew to beBud's.

"You onery old cayuse, stand still!"

From that I gathered Herky was taking the saddle off his horse.

"Here, Leslie, I'll untie you--if you'll promise not to bolt."

That voice was Buell's. I would have known it among a thousand. And Dickwas still a prisoner.

"Shet up!" said Herky, in a low, sharp tone. A silence followed. "Buell,look hyar in the trail. Tracks! Goin' in an' comin' out."

"How old are they?"

"I'll bet a hoss they ain't an hour old."

"Somebody's usin' the cabin, eh?"

The men then fell to whispering, and I could not understand what was said,but I fancied they were thinking only of me. My mind worked fast. Buell andhis fellows had surely not run across Hiram Bent. Had the old hunterdeserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certainty that hehad seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himself had notreturned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among the pines, andI did not think any of those ruffians was safe.

Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexicanslipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interiorwas dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for he steppedinside.

At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and a blackmass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down with a piercingshriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roars mingled with thenoise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust on the cabin floor. The cubhad jumped on the Mexican. What an unmerciful beating he was giving thatGreaser! I could have yelled out in my glee. I had to bite my tongue tokeep from urging on my docile little pet bear. Greaser surely thought hehad fallen in with his evil spirit, for he howled to the saints to savehim.

Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start tohelp him.

"The cabin's full of b'ars!" he yelled.

At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot across thethreshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he had brokenhis halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught only aglimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cub dove atHerky, under him, straight between his legs like a greased pig, and,spilling him all over the trail, sped on out of sight. Herky raisedhimself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curses whilehe made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame.

I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could have beenheard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was so furious thathe spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his empty revolver.

Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for awonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been through athreshing-machine.

"Haw! haw! Ho! ho!" roared the merry lumbermen.

Then they trooped into the cabin. Buell headed the line, and Herky,sullenly reloading his revolver, came last. At first they groped around inthe dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they were in thelight space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. I scarcelydared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grew dim.

Buell shook his fist. "What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take itfrom me! Now, what's best to do?"

"Buell, the game's going against you," said Dick Leslie. "The penitentiaryis where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. Old Bent will find JimWilliams, and then you fellows will be up against it. There's going to besomebody killed. The best thing for you to do is to let me go and then cutout yourself."

Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard.

"Leslie, I'm seein' this out--understand? When Bud rode down to the mill an'told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shet hismouth--one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from me!"

"Bah!" sneered Dick. "You're sca'red into the middle of next week rightnow. . . . Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!"

"What?"

But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten fromhim. Buell fumed and stamped.

"Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has any sense.What d'you say?"

"Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses--drive them up the canyon."

The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. I heardsome of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left of the door,Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much of Herky as hisboots. I knew him by his bow-legs.

The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men were movingabout and talking I had been so interested that my predicament did notoccupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silently below, I wasbeset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that I must be quietmade it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my one position crampedmy arm and side. A million prickling needles were at my elbow. A band as ofsteel tightened about my breast. I grew hot and cold, and trembled. I knewthe slightest move would be fatal, so I bent all my mind to lying quiet asa stone.

Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without any onespeaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper as herolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with mymuscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back! Butthere I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward and uncomfortableposition. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm, but to think ofHiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could not think of anythingexcept the certainty that I would soon lose control of my muscles and fallover.

The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung myface. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemed tobreak within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had no powerto stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that I knew I wouldwelcome discovery as a relief.

"Sh-s-s-h!" whispered some one below.

I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely intothe light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extended hishand, back uppermost, toward Buell. On the back of that broad brown handwere pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling of my body hadshaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More than that, in theyellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door there floatedparticles of dust.

Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and hismouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious,intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose to hisfeet.

"Come down out o' thet!" he ordered, harshly. "Come down!"

The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe. Isaw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's boots suddenlystood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silence which followedBuell's order was so dense that it oppressed me.

"Come down!" repeated Buell.

There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and abrutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror.

"Bud, climb the ladder," commanded Buell.

"I ain't stuck on thet job," rejoined Bud.

As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. Myvery desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal. Icaught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm, and,grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round head appearedabove the loft I hit it with all my might.

Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noise ofa load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with both handspressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped out hisrevolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang!

A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof.

Bang! Bang!

I felt a hot, tearing pain in my arm.

"Stop, you black idiot!" yelled Buell. He kicked the revolver out of Bud'shand. "What d'you mean by thet?"

In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even while Iheld tightly to my arm. From its feeling my arm seemed to be shot off, butit was only a flesh-wound. After the first instant of shock I was notscared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran down inside myshirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers.

There was a sudden rustling such as might come from a quick, strainedmovement.

"Buell," cried Dick Leslie. in piercing tones, "Heaven help you murderingthieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right in this forest.Ken, speak! Speak!"

It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buellthink me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made noanswer.

"Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it," said Buell, in a voicestrangely shrunk and shaken. "I meant no harm to the lad. . . . Go up, Bud,an' get him."

Bud made no move, nor did Greaser when he was ordered. "Go up, somebody,an' see what's up there!" shouted Buell. "Strikes me you might goyourself," said Bill, coolly.

With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hove insight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his ownmedicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and brought itdown with every ounce of strength in me.

Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. Thelumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder and rolledon the floor. There he lay quiet.

"All-fired dead--thet kid--now, ain't he?" said Bud, sarcastically. "How'dyou like thet crack on the knob? You'll need a larger size hat, mebbe.Herky-Jerky, you go up an' see what's up there."

"I've a picture of myself goin'," replied Herky, without moving.

"Whar's the water? Get some water, Greaser," chimed in Bill.

From the way they worked over Buell, I concluded he had been pretty badlystunned. But he came to presently.

"What struck me?" he asked.

"Oh, nothin'," replied Bud, derisively. "The loft up thar's full of air,an' it blowed on you, thet's all."

Buell got up, and began walking around.

"Bill, go out an' fetch in some long poles," he said.

When Bill returned with a number of sharp, bayonet-like pikes I knew thegame was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through the thincovering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hard that Ilurched violently.

That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brushlaid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went down witha crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor. Whoever itwas, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almost smothered, in thedusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and I knew then thatHerky-Jerky had made me a prisoner.

XV. THE FIGHT

Herky hauled me out of the brush, and held me in the light. The othersscrambled from under the remains of the loft, and all viewed me curiously.

"Kid, you ain't hurt much?" queried Buell, with concern.

I would have snapped out a reply, but I caught sight of Dick's pale faceand anxious eyes.

"Ken," he called, with both gladness and doubt in his voice, "you lookpretty good--but that blood. . . . Tell me, quick!"

"It's nothing, Dick, only a little cut. The bullet just ticked my arm."

Whatever Dick's reply was it got drowned in Herky-Jerky's long explosion ofstrange language. Herky was plainly glad I had not been badly hurt. I hadalready heard mirth, anger, disgust, and fear in his outbreaks, and nowrelief was added. He stripped off my coat, cut off the bloody sleeve of myshirt, and washed the wound. It was painful and bled freely, but it was notmuch worse than cuts from spikes when playing ball. Herky bound it tightlywith a strip of my shirt-sleeve, and over that my handkerchief.

"Thar, kid, thet'll stiffen up an' be sore fer a day or two, but it ain'tnothin'. You'll soon be bouncin' clubs offen our heads."

It was plain that Herky--and the others, for that matter, except Buell--thought more of me because I had wielded a club so vigorously.

"Look at thet lump, kid," said Bud, bending his head. "Now, ain't thet anice way to treat a feller? It made me plumb mad, it did."

"I'm likely to hurt somebody yet," I declared.

They looked at me curiously. Buell raised his face with a queer smile. Budbroke into a laugh.

"Oh, you're goin' to? Mebbe you think you need an axe," said he.

They made no offer to tie me up then. Bud went to the door and sat in it,and I heard him half whisper to Buell: "What 'd I tell you? Thet's a gamekid. If he ever wakes up right we'll have a wildcat on our hands. He'll dofer one of us yet." These men all took pleasure in saying things like thisto Buell. This time Buell had no answer ready, and sat nursing his head."Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack I got wasn't nothin' toyourn," concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing the supplies indoors, andHerky started a fire. Bud kept a sharp eye on me; still, he made noobjection when I walked over and lay down upon the blankets near Dick.

"Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub," I said. And then I toldhim all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of the spring-holetill I was discovered up in the loft. Dick shook his head, as if he did